


Pretty

by renquise



Category: VIXX
Genre: Established Relationship, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 12:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8102509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renquise/pseuds/renquise
Summary: Hakyeon checked his bag again, just to make sure the box was still in there. It was. He set his shoulders. He had a plan, and it was going to be fine. Really.(Or, the sappiest fic about lingerie ever written, probably.)





	

Hakyeon checked his bag again, just to make sure the box was still in there. It was. He set his shoulders. He had a plan, and it was going to be fine. Really.

“I’m going to go pry Wonshik out of his studio,” he called to Taekwoon. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Taekwoon made a vague affirmative noise, too busy trying to mash buttons on his controller while pushing Jaehwan off the couch with his foot. He was mostly failing.

“You too,” Jaehwan said without taking his eyes off the TV, fending off Taekwoon’s leg and clutching his controller. He shifted into his naggy-aunt voice. “Bring him back before midnight. No touching above the knee. No making out in the studio. Oh, fuck you, that’s cheating—”

When he arrived at the building, it was pretty empty. The security guard at the front desk gave him a wave and told Hakyeon about his daughter starting school soon. 

The building was always a little strange when there was no one working late for comeback preparations or some other project. There was no one to hear him, but he still felt like he ought to be quiet, his footsteps loud in the empty corridors. He had to feel his way some of the light switches, easing them on like he was sixteen again and sneaking in late after a dance event. 

As he had expected, there was still light under the door to Wonshik’s studio when he made it up to their floor.

He creaked the door open, but Wonshik didn’t move—he was nodding his head, a hand over his earphones and his little apple-hair ponytail bobbing. Hakyeon eased the door shut behind himself.

Wonshik looked tired, but not as tired as other weeks when he had had trouble sleeping. Just enough to make his movements a little more languid when he tipped his head over to the side to listen more closely, the stretched-out neck of his grey t-shirt slipping to hang lopsided over his shoulder. 

It was very satisfying to run his fingers lightly over Wonshik’s shoulder and see his headphones fly off to the side as he flailed and almost tipped his chair over with a yelp.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he said weakly, clutching his shirt. “You asshole, I thought it was, I don’t know, a bug or something, a huge one, stop laughing, I’m dying here.”

“You're up late again,” Hakyeon scolded, trying to stifle his giggles enough to sound stern. He hit the of Wonshik’s neck and curved his hand around his nape, shaking lightly. He couldn’t deny that he had kind of counted on Wonshik being up late, though.

“I just had this last bit,” Wonshik said, squirming in his grasp. “Really.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hakyeon said, raising his eyebrows threateningly. He ran his hand over the tuft of Wonshik’s ponytail and tugged on it.

“Really!” 

Wonshik held an arm out, and Hakyeon relented and let himself be pulled in as Wonshik looped an arm around his waist, snuggling tiredly into his belly. He tugged Wonshik’s hair out of its little ponytail so that he could smooth it to lie more or less flat. 

Wonshik made a rumbly noise and butted into his hand, encouraging Hakyeon to massage his scalp. The ends of his hair were a little uneven, and Hakyeon was pretty sure it had been awhile since his last haircut, but it was cute, his hair fluffed and messy. He liked it, the same way he liked it when Wonshik allowed himself to get a little softer around the middle between comebacks. 

It still made Hakyeon a little giddy how comfortable it felt to lean over and drop a kiss on his lips. The angle was awkward, but Hakyeon could feel Wonshik’s cheeks bunching up in a smile. 

Wonshik made a disappointed noise when Hakyeon pulled back, tilting his chin up for another kiss, but Hakyeon couldn’t let himself get distracted, not yet. 

“I have something for you to try on,” Hakyeon said, before he could lose his nerve. 

“Something from the stylists?” Wonshik said, leaning into Hakyeon’s touch. He already sounded half-asleep. “I’m going to be here early tomorrow, too, so they can do the fitting then, too.”

Hakyeon shrugged. He didn’t have a proper answer to that, not really. Instead, he wriggled out of Wonshik’s grasp to grab the box from his bag and place it in Wonshik’s lap. Wonshik rolled with it, as Hakyeon thought he might.

Hakyeon held his breath when Wonshik opened the box. 

Wonshik’s eyes went wide. 

He lifted a stocking out, sheer and silky and black.

“I. Whoa.”

“Can I put them on you?” Hakyeon asked. He grinned, trying for teasing and flirty, hoping that it didn’t betray the fluttery nervousness in his chest. It was tempting to laugh it off, to say that it was for an upcoming variety appearance.

Wonshik unfolded the stockings and carefully slipped his hand inside, looking at the sheer material over his skin. “They’re really soft.” 

“I wouldn’t buy something cheap, would I?” Hakyeon said. He felt a little affronted.

Wonshik grinned at him. “I bet you managed to get a discount, though?” 

Well. Yes. Hakyeon made a face at him. 

“I also, ah,” Hakyeon said. “Got this?”

He reached over and unfolded the tissue paper on Wonshik’s lap to find a black garter belt, with the matching underwear. Hakyeon knew exactly what it looked like, with a bit of lace, the shape sleek and tasteful. He had unfolded it and refolded it so many times when he had opened the package after picking it up from the friend he had sent it to, trying to work up the nerve to ask Wonshik. He wondered he might be going too far. 

Wonshik licked his lips. He didn’t look sleepy at all, now. He whistled, low, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t go halfway, did you.”

“You don’t have to,” Hakyeon said at once. 

Wonshik’s head jerked up, his eyes going wide. “No, no, it’s fine! It’s just. A surprise? A good surprise.”

Wonshik fingered the delicate fabric of the stockings again, his hands gentle. He looked thoughtful. 

He stood up, then, and scrambled for a bag under his unfolded studio cot. “I’ll be right back, okay?” he said, halfway out the studio door.

Hakyeon raised his eyebrows.

Wonshik poked his head back in. “Stay right there. Don't go anywhere, okay?”

“Okay,” Hakyeon said.

Hakyeon sat back on Wonshik’s studio cot, kicking his legs. Waiting. His hand drifted to the stockings draped over the back of Wonshik’s chair. They were so light, supple enough to slip through his hands like water. 

He was pretty sure he had gotten the right size. He had stared at the sizing chart on his browser long enough to get paranoid that it was going to burn into his screen. And then went to Naver to search for “vixx ravi leg length,” because he was absolutely sure that they must have mentioned it on a radio show at some point. He found it alongside the size of Sanghyuk’s nostrils, of all things.

He wasn’t sure where he had first gotten the idea. Maybe it had been that lingerie shop variety show, and the way that he had liked the whisper of the more expensive silky things against his hands. The way he had felt curious.

It was taking longer than he thought for Wonshik to come back, long enough for the nervousness to start curling in his belly again. 

One of the action figures lined up along Wonshik’s keyboard was crooked. He stood up to straighten it and line it up with the others. Sat back down and drew his legs up to his chest, tapping his fingers against his shins.

“Okay,” Wonshik said, a little breathless as he swept back in and closed the door again, flopping onto the cot with a bounce. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Hakyeon definitely wasn’t startled and definitely didn’t let out a little scream. He whapped Wonshik’s shoulder. “What took you so long,” he huffed. 

Wonshik shrugged and let out a little nervous laugh, which wasn’t an answer, and lifted his leg into Hakyeon’s lap, his basketball shorts riding up his thigh. Hakyeon reached for it to mercilessly tickle the back of his knee until Wonshik gave him a proper answer, and—there wasn’t the familiar rasp of leg hair, just smooth skin.

“You—you shaved.” Hakyeon heard his voice edge into a squeak.

“Uh. Yeah?” Wonshik ducked his head. “I don’t know, I thought they might look nice that way? I have my razor here, in case I need to shave in the morning, so. So I thought it might be nice. Sorry, it took me longer than I thought. I might’ve fucked it up a little.”

And. And it was so, so Wonshik. Always refusing to do anything halfway. 

Hakyeon laughed, a wave of relief and fondness breaking over him, and Wonshik grinned back at him, quirking a nervous eyebrow.

Hakyeon’s breath hitched as he smoothed his hand down Wonshik’s leg.There was a bandaid on his shin, probably covering a nick. His feet were calloused and a little battered. Dancer’s feet, like his own. 

“You missed a spot,” Hakyeon said. He smoothed his thumb over a little patch of hair by his knee.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on,” Wonshik said, a little shyly. He poked Hakyeon in the chest with his toes.

Hakyeon helped Wonshik shimmy out of his shorts, and then rolled the stocking up, the way he had seen stylists do backstage for girl group quick-changes. He slipped the tip of it over Wonshik’s toes and drew it up Wonshik’s leg and over his knee, releasing the elastic to cinch gently around his thigh. 

The stockings were pretty before, but Wonshik’s warm skin and the lean, flexing muscle of his legs made them come alive. Hakyeon let his fingers trail down Wonshik’s leg as he reached for the other stocking, watching Wonshik as he stroked a curious hand over his leg, feeling the sheer fabric stretched over the bend of his knee. 

“Other leg, please,” Hakyeon said, motioning for Wonshik to place it into his hand. Wonshik acquiesced easily, letting Hakyeon roll the other stocking up his thigh.

“There you are,” Hakyeon said, patting Wonshik’s leg. His mouth was dry. “Stand up?”

It should look ridiculous—Wonshik with his mussed hair, and his worn grey studio t-shirt with the hole by the neck, and the Hulk boxer-briefs that Sanghyuk got him on his last vacation, and the fine, silky stockings. But instead, it was incongruously lovely. 

Wonshik posed, bending a leg coyly. He bit his lip around a giggle, his shoulders drooping into a hunch before he straightened into another pose to look over his shoulder at Hakyeon, all pin-up model in cartoon boxers. 

He looked so, so good, comfortable in his own skin and bashful at the same time, and Hakyeon was helpless to it.

“How do I look?” Wonshik asked, switching to another sultry pose.

“So nice, Wonshikkie,” Hakyeon said, breathless, reaching out to stroke the stocking stretched taut over his thigh. “Your _legs_.”

“Yeah?” Wonshik ducked his head again with an embarrassed smile. He held his legs out for inspection, first one and then the other, letting Hakyeon curve a hand around his knee, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin fabric.

“Do you want these, too?” Hakyeon asked, patting the rest of the set tucked inside the tissue paper. He didn’t want to push.

“Uh. Sure.” Wonshik grinned, a little embarrassed, but game. He stripped off his shirt and shimmied out of his boxers, and then stepped into the delicate underwear, drawing it up onto his hips carefully, like he was afraid of tearing it.

“Um, can you help me with this one?” Wonshik said, holding up the garter belt. 

Hakyeon had looked up how to put that on, too, just to make sure they didn’t manage to break something getting the straps in the right place, but he still fumbled with the clips as he attached the garter belt around Wonshik’s waist and fastened it to the stockings, Wonshik holding his arms up and twisting around to see what he was doing. Once he was done, Wonshik tucked his thumbs under the waistband of the underwear to shift his dick more comfortably over to the side, adjusting things like he was settling into a new stage outfit. The garter belt marked the familiar dip of his back like a line of ink, all sleek muscle and broad shoulders and long legs and delicate lace. 

“I,” Hakyeon started. He licked his lips. “I bought something for myself, too.”

“What?” Wonshik said, distracted by his adjustments. And then Wonshik’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Wait. Really?” 

And Hakyeon couldn’t help but laugh, because Wonshik sounded like he couldn’t believe that he could be this lucky. 

“Turn around,” Hakyeon said. “Or, no, sit down, close your eyes.”

The cot protested when Wonshik shot down to sit on it, fast enough to make it buckle a bit. 

“We need to get you a new bed,” Hakyeon said. “Or better yet, you should sleep at home more often.”

“Yeah, okay, sure, that sounds great. _Hyung_ , please,” Wonshik said plaintively, his eyes shut. 

“All right, all right,” Hakyeon said. He was stalling, he knew.

Hakyeon took a breath, and then stood and turned to unbutton his jeans. 

He carefully kicked out of them, finding the lacy black edges of the underwear underneath. He smoothed his hands over it, making sure that everything was neat, that it sat right on his hips. 

He had found a pretty negligee to go with the underwear, a loose, filmy thing with draped sleeves that felt nice against his skin. He lifted it out of its tissue paper and shrugged it on, feeling the smooth edge of the fabric skim the top of his thighs. He had tried it on when he first got it, just once, just to make sure everything fit and made him look nice. It had felt—shivery, putting it on for the first time. It still felt new, like settling into a new skin.

“Okay,” Hakyeon said, once everything was settled to his satisfaction, willing his voice to be steady.

It was weird, to feel nervous. He knew he looked good. But it felt exposed, somehow, and it wasn’t just the whisper of air against his skin.

He turned around, and Wonshik was sitting on the cot with his eyes wide and his mouth open, his hands hanging loosely over his spread legs. His throat bobbed. Hakyeon felt a satisfied glow bloom in his chest. 

“It’s nice, right?” Hakyeon asked, putting out an arm to show the filmy drape of the sleeve.

Wonshik nodded, slow, and then again more fervently. “Wow. I. Yeah.” He spotted the stockings in the tissue paper and reached out. “Can I. Can I put them on for you?”

“You may,” Hakyeon said mock-grandly, handing the stockings to him. 

Wonshik slipped off the cot to kneel, fast enough that Hakyeon worried about his knees, and fumbles a little to roll up the stockings. He patted his raised knee. Hakyeon placed his foot on it, balancing himself with a hand on Wonshik's shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t think to shave,” he said.

“It’s cool,” Wonshik said in a rush. 

Hakyeon shivered a little at the reverent touch of Wonshik’s hand wrapping around his ankle.

It made him feel—both delicate and powerful, somehow, with the brush of silk against his skin and Wonshik’s able hands cradling his foot. He must have made a noise, because Wonshik looked up at him, catching his gaze. 

“Everything good?” Wonshik asked, his thumb stroking over the spur of Hakyeon's ankle. His cheeks were a little pink. 

Hakyeon licked his lips and nodded. “You?” 

Wonshik ducked his head, his cheeks bunched up around a smile. “Yeah.”

Wonshik’s hands were careful and focused as they rolled the stockings up his legs, first one and then the other.

“There,” Wonshik said, a little hoarse. He smoothed out the edge of the stockings with his fingertips. “You look. Wow. I wish you could see what you look like.”

“Oh, shoot, we don’t have a mirror in here,” Hakyeon realized, pursing his lips. He hadn’t planned this well enough. He was curious to see himself, too.

A pause. 

“There’s the practice room,” Wonshik offered. A little sheepish.

Hakyeon weighed the odds. They shouldn’t. He couldn’t even imagine the scandal if they got caught running around their workplace in lacy underwear, and he, of all people, should be the one saying no to bad ideas like these. 

It definitely was a bad idea.

But he hadn’t run into anyone on this floor, only the security guard at the entrance. He looked at Wonshik. One of his eyebrows quirked up, like he was nervous, but game. 

And then Hakyeon thought, fuck it, why not. 

He grabbed the fleece blankets on Wonshik’s cot, draping one of them around Wonshik’s shoulders, and then around himself. He peeked out the door. There was still no one, the lights dim and the corridor empty.

“Come on,” he whispered, holding the fleece blanket around his throat and tugging Wonshik by the hand. 

It was only a few metres, but it felt longer as they ran, giggling and shushing each other and almost tripping over some sound equipment in the corridor. They skidded into the practice room, closing and locking the door behind them. 

Wonshik glanced over at him, grinning and breathing hard, and Hakyeon couldn’t help but grin back. 

It felt like being trainees again, a bit, all of them able to do stupid, dumb things because no one knew them yet. Hakyeon wouldn’t give up what they have now, not for the world, but sometimes, just sometimes, he missed not having to be careful. 

At night, their familiar practice room seemed like a different place. Quiet and softly-lit and weirdly intimate. Hakyeon let the blanket drop from around his shoulders.

Wonshik already had his blanket off, looking at himself in the mirror. His expression was curious, considering, turning his legs to examine them. 

He smoothed a hand up his stomach, sucking it in for a second. Hakyeon’s heart sank, because that wasn’t what he wanted at all. He curved himself around Wonshik’s back, propping his chin on his shoulder, and put his hand on Wonshik’s hips. 

“Ooh, our Ravi has such nice legs. You look so nice, Wonshikkie. You always look nice.” He poked Wonshik’s stomach. “You should eat more. That’s always true, too.”

Wonshik laughed, his stomach untensing under Hakyeon’s hand, and Hakyeon’s heart loosened. 

Hakyeon turned to look at himself in the mirror properly.

He liked the way the sheer edge of the negligee’s neckline dipped down around his nape. It looked—delicate. Pretty, but elegant, too. The filmy sleeve of the negligee fell back as he unfolded his arm, and he liked the way the fabric framed his wrist, the way it emphasized the movement. It was weird, shivery, the way that something about it felt right. 

Beside him, Wonshik tried for a pirouette. He slipped, his stockings losing purchase on the wooden floor, and he barked out a laugh. Hakyeon wound up for a spin, too, his feet skidding on the floor as he caught himself on the landing, laughing. 

It should be a little ridiculous, and maybe it was, two grown men in lacy underwear dancing. But at the same time—

Hakyeon jumped a little when Wonshik reached out to trace the neckline of his negligee. 

“You look really nice.” His eyes were soft. “It looks nice when you move?”

And that was the thing—Hakyeon knew he looks good, he did, but it was another thing to hear it from Wonshik, with all of his helpless honesty.

Hakyeon leaned into him, loving the way that Wonshik’s breath caught. He cupped Wonshik’s jaw and kissed him. Wonshik's mouth was soft and sweet, and Hakyeon couldn’t help but stroke his hands over his legs, feeling the smooth stretch of his muscles under the stockings. 

He stayed close to Wonshik when they parted, holding Wonshik’s face and leaning his forehead against his.

“Thanks. For, for all of this?” Hakyeon said. He wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, only that he wanted Wonshik to know.

“It’s cool,” Wonshik said. He laughed a little sheepishly. “I like it? I like it if you like it.”

Hakyeon laughed, smoothing the side of his hair down. “I like it.”

“What do you want to do?” Wonshik said. Hakyeon felt Wonshik’s fingertips on his elbow, the touch curious, undemanding.

Hakyeon hesitated. “I—I don’t know. I didn’t really want to do anything. I just—wanted to see you in it?”

There was no doubt that seeing Wonshik in these clothes made heat bloom in the pit of Hakyeon’s stomach, and some part of him wanted to press his mouth to the tender skin inside Wonshik’s thighs, right at the edge of the stockings. But right now—it was weird, he just wanted to feel Wonshik close, see how handsome he looked in pretty things that Hakyeon bought for him, how nice the silk felt against his own skin.

“Okay,” Wonshik said easily. “Can I kiss you a bit? You look amazing and I really want to kiss you.”

“I’ll allow it,” Hakyeon said, waving his arm grandly, just to make Wonshik laugh again.

Hakyeon let Wonshik draw him down onto the practice mats where they had kicked the blankets aside. Hakyeon's hands landed on Wonshik’s thighs, finding the edge of the elastic and the dip where it cinched around Wonshik’s thigh, the way it yielded to Wonshik’s smooth skin. When Hakyeon tangled their legs together, the slide of their legs was almost frictionless. There was a part of him that realized how absurd this was—the two of them, in a practice room on the mats with Mickey-Mouse-patterned fleece blankets under them, in fine lingerie that Hakyeon spent way too much money on, making out like teenagers. Wonshik was half-hard against him, but he seemed happy with keeping it at this, all banked embers. Hakyeon's hands kept on finding an edge of lace next to Wonshik’s skin, thrilling and unexpected. 

Hakyeon just wanted to keep kissing him like this forever, Wonshik languid and easy, letting Hakyeon set the pace and making little pleased noises in the back of his throat.

Wonshik pulled back to look up at him, his eyes soft and his lips red with kissing. And then yawned. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, dissolving into giggles.

“You should sleep,” Hakyeon said, very deliberately ignoring the fact that he was the one keeping him up. He was tired, too, the day finally settling into his bones. “Come on, get changed, and we’ll go home.”

They ended up crashing on Wonshik’s studio cot instead, Hakyeon stealing one of Wonshik’s worn studio t-shirts to sleep in. As always, there was barely enough room for both of them, even with Wonshik tucking his lanky limbs in to make himself the little spoon, holding Hakyeon’s arm around his belly. 

Hakyeon knew he had to sleep, but he wanted to stay awake, to fold the moment away somewhere safe and close for days when everything was too much, too fast. 

“Hey, can you send me anything else you want?” Wonshik rumbled sleepily. “Wanna buy you something nice.” 

Hakyeon felt something bloom in his chest, tender and hot. Wonshik had undressed him so carefully, laying all the pieces back into the tissue paper like they were precious.

“Everyone will wonder what you’re blowing all your royalties on,” Hakyeon said. “Apart from expensive sneakers.”

“That’s cool,” Wonshik mumbled. 

Hakyeon held him closer, hooking his chin over Wonshik’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Hakyeon turned his face into Wonshik’s nape, the short brush of Wonshik’s hair tickling his nose. Wonshik’s breathing was already tapering off into the beginnings of a snore, and the studio room was quiet and dark and familiar and new, all at once.


End file.
